Masks
by Cookies For The World
Summary: Mihael and Mail. Mello and Matt. Two lonely boys, two perfect masks. Each searching for the one soul who can understand them.
1. Chapter 1

Mihael hates the world. He hates the artificiality, hates the fake smiles and the stupid rankings and the false homely atmosphere of Wammy's House (and it's never been anything but a house, never a home though he's lived here all his life and can't recall a life before.).

So he retreats into his mind, into the reality of his personal paradise, where there's nobody but him. And he is lonely.

* * *

And Mello is born, Mello the whirlwind, Mello the bully, Mello the Number Two with the face of an angel and the eyes of a demon.

It begins with a mass of mental wires, Mihael patiently connecting synapses and neurons like a brain surgeon, slowly fashioning half of his mind into the crude shape of another personality, an alternate who will shelter and protect his soul as he dreams.

Then he begins to shape the creature, running scenarios and programming reflexes until every word, every action, (but not thought, thought is for Mihael only) is as predictable and justifiable as possible.

Next is the hardest step. Carrying Mihael the engineer, Mello the newly-born sets forth, systematically destroying and re-forming everyone's memories, until through repeated drilling (Mihael laughs quietly at this, for, he muses, isn't it funny how similar we masters are to the pets we train?) nobody remembers Mihael and all are convinced that there has never been a quiet, shy Mihael, only the cold and cruel mask that is Mello.

And Mihael is careful. He makes sure that there is a plausible reason for everything he does. Mihael studies for the challenge and thrill of knowledge; Mello studies because he tries so hard to beat Near and can't (Mihael feels a bit guilty for that, but he needs a scapegoat and Near was the only choice, so he just tries not to think about his decision too much.). Mihael doesn't like violence, so Mello tries to destroy anything and everything (after all, nobody looks too closely at the delinquents, especially not too-intelligent rebels.). And after a while, Roger doesn't try to ask him _why_ anymore, just deals out punishment and long-suffering sighs, because – like everyone else – he thinks there's no explanation for Mello other than that he's _Mello_.

And as the years go by and Mello becomes natural, the cracks sealed up, and mask like a comforting (though heavy) weight, Mihael gives up control to the now-automated systems, hiding deep with the flesh-metal shield he built such an eternity ago, drowsing in dreams and barely stirring through the various events that twisted and shook Mello's world. And he was lonely.

* * *

One day, Matt arrived at Wammy's. A scrawny little redhead, geeky goggles perched around his neck like a necklace and striped shirt hanging off his bones (not body, there isn't much to speak of anyway), Mello would've barely spared him a glance had it not been for a long-buried part of him that sparked and jumped. There's something different about this boy, something alien and yet so achingly familiar. He's connecting the dots now, messages leaping across from Mello to Mihael, screaming, "Alert! Alert! Unknown situation; request urgent instructions!" Mello hesitates.

Mihael stirs. Moving is strange, after so long spent dormant within his own fantasies, but this sort of abnormality necessitates his intervention, without a doubt. So he clambers up to what he has termed the _inner sanctum_ within his own mind, and peers out.

And for the first time in years, Mihael stares through Mello's eyes into empty green orbs just barely filled with flickering life, and finds a kindred soul.

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys, Cookie here! So, I've only just started writing, and I'm not too sure about this piece. There will be another chapter from Matt's perspective, but updates may be slow because of my crazy schedule (and complete inability to get off my ass and start working.). Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I no own DN. I shall now be depressed and eat huge tubs of chocolate ice cream like a girl who just got dumped. Bye.**

* * *

**Did you know? Statistics confirm that portals into the Death Note universe are 99% more likely to open up to reviewers of any Death Note fanfiction. Don't belive those scientists? Review then, and try it out! (P.S. If you don't get that portal, review my next chapter to complain. I will forward them to Stats & Co. – as long as you add a little tidbit telling me your opinion of that chapter.). **


	2. Chapter 2

Mail likes to separate his life into two – Before Matt and After Matt. It makes things better, makes it faster to organize his mind, makes understanding the world so much easier.

There's Before.

That's the time when he was young and happy and invincible, when he was convinced that he was like Link and Mario and all those big muscly men he saw on late-night trashy TV, when Mother wasn't around to stop him because she only came stumbling in the front door at 3am reeking of something strange and bitter and nasty.

That's the time when he had to dress up like in Play Pretend and look sad at a funeral because his father had gone away to somewhere else, but everything was fine because Mother's arms were around him and even if there were tears in her eyes she was smiling. (Mail learned a new word that day. He didn't understand, but he knew the teachers in school always gave sweets to people during Sharing Time when they were allowed tell the class new things they'd learned. So when he stood up and proudly announced that he'd learned the word _bastard_ from his Ma_,_ and even given a sentence like in the dictionary, "Thank God that bastard's finally offed himself, and good riddance too," he wasn't quite sure why Ms Sharon had suddenly gotten something in her eye and run to the lady's room, and then later told him firmly never, _ever_ to use that word again.).

That's the time when he stood in front of a fresh grave for the second time in as many years, learning for the first time the feeling of grief as an old man led him away to a new life in Wammy's House. And he didn't understand.

But Matt did. Oh, it was easy, so very easy to build a person. Like the computers he used to drag back from the dump and fix up. Simple as one-two-three, easy as pie, like a piece of cake. First he took his mind and ripped it apart, slowly taking out all the little bits and feeling them, memorizing their purpose and then smashing them further to examine them again. It was like a game. Like when he used to drag those computers back from the dump and fix them together, back Before.

Then comes the writing of a different code, the programming of the software, then fixing-together of all the wires and microchips into something resembling a personality. It's a long and arduous task. But he has time. For months, since the beginning of his great building project, he has lain in a near-catatonic state, just thinking. Nobody disturbs him, except to bring him his meals – and even then they put the dishes outside the door. This type of withdrawal, apparently, is quite common even amongst the incredibly intelligent orphans of Wammy's House, the reasoning being that the children would eventually "get over it". (On an unrelated note, this kind of thinking is what later killed Almost, there being nobody to stop him from his manic-suicidal attempts.). Yes, he has all the time in the world.

But when Matt is finally built, he was more difficult to use that expected, Mail discovers. He has no past, no memories, nothing in his history. So when Mail takes Matt on his first step outside in close to a year, he stays close to his room, not quite ready to make an impression in the minds of too many at Wammy's House yet. He doesn't speak. And it turns out to be a blessing, for everyone leaves the little redheaded weirdo in the corner alone, while Mail watches and observes and feeds endless streams of data into Matt's systems, predicting people and building firewalls to keep everyone else in sight but out of reach, shielding himself from the world.

And Matt grows, developing little quirks and habits that Mail learned to adapt to, as he smooths out the final kinks and retreated deep in, relinquishing all control to the automated reflexes he trained so long ago, while a mask bearing his face wanders the halls of Wammy's.

Then Matt rounded the corner and Mello crashes abruptly into his life. Green eyes meet blue and widen. A spark. He smiles.

**Hi guys, Cookie's back! Sorry I took so long. My crazy otaku friend introduced me to Fullmetal Alchemist. You can guess what happens next. I fall in love with it, start obsessing over every single character, and completely forget that I have a fic to update. Yeah. So… heheh. Sorry.**

**To my three reviewers: I was squealing insanely each time I received an alert from . I was checking my email in school, and I was basically like OMFG ASDFGHJKL SOMEBODY REVIEWED SQUEEEEEEE! and everyone else kinda stayed away from me for the rest of the day. Ah, fun times… So, without further ado – Thank you guys so much! *gives you virtual hugs***

**Reviews make me happy. I don't encourage cannibalism so… have a marshmallow instead?**


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